FLOWER GIRL – Barnstable Patriot Senior Reporter Kat Szmit shows off a hibiscus flower that was a gift from a farmer in Viñales, Cuba.

My transformative journey to beautiful Havana

I have been charged with the task of summing up my weeklong sojourn to Cuba for this story, but I ask you, how does one sum up a country in a few hundred words? How does one sum up the sensuality of salsa dancing and the vibrant colors of paint on stucco? How does one sum up tropical air punctuated with the scent of hand-rolled cigars, Havana Club rum, and infused with the sound of rapid-fire Spanish? Well, I’m not sure, but I’ll do my best.

For me the grand adventure began when I was invited to accompany a group of Barnstable High School students and teachers on their trip to Havana. Excitedly, but with quiet trepidation, I agreed. After all, how many reporters for small weeklies are offered such an adventure?

Unlike the 16 students preparing for the trip, I opted not to study much about the country, save for what I needed to know for travel purposes. I also tried to relinquish what little I did know about the country so as to arrive with an open mind.

Doing so wasn’t easy since most of those I told about the trip eagerly voiced opinions about Cuba, a few positive, many curious, and some negative. I couldn’t blame the naysayers. They had lived through the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Cold War and the situations leading up to the US embargo against Cuba. That said, I prudently filed their comments and packed my suitcase.

After a day of plane hopping on April 18, our final flight from Miami to Havana found us soaring above the Florida coast before leaving behind land for open ocean. Minutes later the first glimpses of terra cotta tiled roofs came into view. At first all seemed colorful and appealing. As the plane grew closer to land, however, the actual appearance of the buildings was startling.

The plaster and concrete walls were crumbling in spots, and an air of poverty was evident. While some would prefer to push the label solely onto the Cuban people residing in such dwellings, I couldn’t. I was struck with the thought that while the Spanish-influenced architecture may have been different, these forlorn structures weren’t very different from the crumbling buildings in parts of the United States, even parts of Cape Cod.

I had been told to be wary of the Cuban people for myriad reasons, mostly because they reside in a communist country. Instead, from the moment we touched down in Havana, I found warmth that surprised me and that I’m certain will remain with me always.

Despite the fact that government conflicts have resulted in Cuba seeming like the land that time forgot (yes, people do still drive 1950s cars), they are not uneducated. In fact, there are fewer illiterate children in Cuba than in the US. Education is free through college, and is required until Grade 9. All students are required to perform two years of social service work following graduation and then may enter into a government-sanctioned job or a private business.

Although the first private business was created in the 1990s, the concept is still relatively new. Like most political/social/cultural changes it has come with positives and negatives. While privatized businesses allow people to earn more money, it has also encouraged greater discrimination. In some ways it is similar to the United States in the days of the Civil Rights Movement.

On one hand, much of the way Cubans live could be deemed primitive by US standards. There are few, if any, smart phones; Internet is a challenge; and saving money is difficult. Again, other than the smart phones, it’s very similar to the US. Then again, there is the issue of toilet seats.

No matter where you go in Cuba, even to the nicest restaurants or hotels, you’re not always guaranteed a seat on your toilet. Apparently, seats are something of a commodity and not easy to come by. Hardware stores aren’t exactly a big deal on the island, which is why businesses (and probably residents) are protective about their toilet seats.

Toilet paper isn’t a guarantee either, as we learned while out and about. Some places had none; some offered sheets at a price. I took to carrying a roll I’d brought with me everywhere I went.

One would assume, since we were on an educational trip, that both the US and Cuban governments would have worked to create an itinerary that would put us in contact with specific people (read: those with a positive spin on life in a communist/socialist country). Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

Instead we were treated to visits with what I feel was a wonderful cross-section of people from the Havana region. What surprised me about each person we spoke with, sometimes at length, was not only their distinct lack of bitterness, but also their willingness to speak freely about life in Cuba.

Cuban people are aware, sometimes painfully, of the fact that they live under a government that has serious challenges, not unlike the United States. Interestingly, it isn’t socialism that frustrates them. They’re not pining away for a full-on democracy; nor are they sharpening sticks into spears in anticipation of more American visitors.

They are aware that their government, like ours and like so many others, isn’t perfect. It has its flaws and its merits. A flaw the people would like to see addressed is the unification of the two types of money, something that came about after the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Cuban Pesos, similar to wooden nickels, are not widely favored, and cannot be used to do business outside the country. For the purpose of trade, Cubans use CUCs, Cuban Convertible Pesos. Keeping the two straight can be confusing.

The people are also longing for the US embargo against Cuba to change, if not end, though if an end were to come, they’d want it to be gradual so as not to overwhelm the country.

The main reason for wanting change is to ensure that Cuban citizens, especially children, have access to the medicines they need to survive illnesses such as cancer. Because certain drugs are made only in the US, Cuban doctors can’t get them, and as a result children die.

That said, the medical system is one that progressive places like ours could borrow from. There are 70,000 doctors in Cuba. The ratio of doctors to patients is 1:84. That means only 84 patients for every one doctor, as opposed to the insanity we call US healthcare.

Is everything ideal in Cuba? No. But neither is it here in the US, which is what brings me to my next observation. It is assumed that Americans are vastly different from Cubans. If you base that assumption on certain technologies and the ability to shop freely for whatever it is one needs (toilet paper), then that’s true. But if you base it on people simply trying to make a living and enjoy what they have, well, you’re right again.

Here is what struck me the most about the people we met (and even those I simply observed from the window of my seat on the bus): gratitude. Cuban people may not have much in comparison to those of us in the US, but what they possess they are immensely grateful for. Rather than lamenting their small, weather-beaten homes and antiquated cars, they are thrilled to have a place to call their own. For them it’s not about what they want, but rather what they already have.

I found the Cuban people to be resilient, incredibly resourceful (ask me about tree fences, a most unique percussion instrument, and rain barrels), joyful, and grateful. Because they don’t have vast technology in the form of phones and video game consoles, not to mention flat-screen televisions, their form of entertainment is gathering along the Malecon to socialize, or waiting in line for two hours for some of the world’s best ice cream.

It was easy for those of us from the United States to fall into conversation with the people of Cuba (even if some of us needed translation). It was transformative to hear their stories firsthand, rather than be given specific propaganda. It was life-changing to step out of my comfort zone and into a world ripe with hope, anticipation, music, rum, coffee and dancing.

My only question is this: if a group of students, teachers and a lone journalist can do so, why can’t our country’s leaders?